Ana Gets Her Gun
by ActionAimz
Summary: AnaLucia goes to extremes, and Sawyer is a means to an end. post sex thoughts


**Ana Gets Her Gun**

(the flip-side of Sweet Abandon)

Characters: Ana Lucia and Sawyer

Status: Complete little ficlet

Description: Machiavellian Ana-Lucia does what she has to do. (From my no way is she dead imagination.)

I disclaim

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**Part I**

Sawyer was not someone to be taken seriously.

So why did she feel like she had just made a deal with the devil.

Ana Lucia rolled her moist, spent body off her conquest, rubbing her palms along her bare inner thighs to calm the shuddering. Laying flat on her back, she felt every twig, every leaf and piece of gravel digging into her hot clammy skin. It was so suffocatingly muggy on this island, all the time. And the stagnant air in the heart of the jungle made everything especially molten.

"Damn," he rasped through shallow breath, followed by annoyingly smug chuckles like he had just done something extra special.

You just couldn't escape the heat and grime no matter how hard you tried. And now she had Sawyer's sweat all over her to boot. Double the weight, double the trouble. Solved one problem, created another. Was the need to kill Henry worth all this?

She gave Sawyer a sidelong glance, squinting against the hot noon sun as the salty sting of her own sweat dripped into her eyes. He lay in a heap just mere inches from her along with all of their clothes. Her mind was reeling for the heat, and the sex, and the fact that she was almost choked to death, and his scratchy stubble and hot breath on her neck. Henry's chokehold, Sawyer's giant . . . um hands, and the sex. Reeling.

Damnit.

_Don't go borrowing trouble mi hija._ She could hear her mother scolding her disapprovingly from oceans, maybe world's away. What had her little rebellious child done now?

Shaking her head, shaking out any sense of shame from her mind, she struggled against the drugging force field of humidity to pull herself up. She was going to ignore Sawyer with those damn dimples and goofy chesire grin and get about her business.

No, she just couldn't take his kind seriously.

She had known right off the bat that he was expendable, as soon as she met him in that ditch she had dug-out all by herself. He was all snarly and scraggly-haired with a bum shoulder trying to tell her what to do. She had to put him in check right away. It was about survival.

See, it wasn't as if she took tremendous pleasure in socking him in the jaw every now and then while trekking across the island. It simply needed to be done. He needed to know that _she_ was in charge, and nobody was going to run amuck on her watch. It wasn't her fault that he was too thick-headed to see beyond the pretty please politeness lacking in her simple requests like "shut-up and keep moving" or more recently "give me your damn gun." It was fairly cut and dry – do what she asked and he wouldn't get hurt. Men!

He was just a pretty boy who probably got by in life by his good looks and charm, and not much else. She had seen it all before. Flash those dimples and smile a little and women were supposed to just succumb to his will. Not this woman. No way. She was not that easy.

She managed to get up and pull on her jeans, which felt tighter and more binding than ever. She craved a shower almost as much as she craved revenge, and vengeance would be hers soon. The end, Henry's demise, would more than justify the means.

Yes she got her gun. While Sawyer was showing her what he was made of, she had managed to toss it a few feet away in a spot where she could easily retrieve it. She figured she was blowing his mind something fierce during their little romp, because the sucker didn't even notice that she had snagged it. She had Sawyer pegged right. Not much between those ears, and the head between his legs clearly dictated his actions.

Typical male. What a disappointment.

She rolled her eyes at him propped up on his elbow, naked, looking like a cat who had eaten a canary. It was only sex, whoopee. The way Sawyer was acting you would have thought he made the earth move. He was awfully pleased with himself after a simple lay. If men managed to go more than three minutes they were like king of the freakin world. Whether the sex was good or not made no difference. Not that it was bad. He clearly knew what he was doing. But her goal was to get his gun and she sure got it.

"What?" she asked nonchalantly while turing her back to him. He was just sitting there gawking and grinning, looking like he was auditioning for a spot in some Calvin Klein underwear ad.

"Well don't you want my phone number, cupcake?"

"How about this. How about you put on your clothes on," she commanded while pulling on her boots.

"Well how about you don't worry about it," he retorted, now fully rearing back on his elbows, giving her full access to exposed torso, sinew and golden tanned.

She threw his shirt at him and it landed right were she needed it to, across his groin. "Put it on before someone sees you."

She wondered if he had the island sun and the manual labor of fruit-picking to thank for that physique. She rolled her eyes clear to the top of her head, partly due to her own thought. Seen one naked chest seen them all. And he clearly had lost hold of what ever senses he had. Phone number? Cuddling? As if they just had a date or something. As if there weren't some crazy freaks in the bushes waiting to ambush them. As if this were the real world and not island hell. As if.

"And by the way, do you think for once you can call me by my real name?" The second she finished her question, she regretting asking it.

"Your real name?" He jerked his head back and smirked and flashed his dimples, feigning confusion. "Ain't much real around here Mama."

Like she was supposed to be mesmerized by his smile and his, um, everything else, and forget what she was supposed to do, and that was to go execute that piece of crap Henry, who had already outlived his usefulness.

"My real name idiot. Which is not Cucaracha or Rambina or any of the other lame ass names that you think you can call me. And when I was a cop, you would have gotten you ass kicked for calling me any cutsie name like cupcake." She angrily pulled her tousled hair into a ponytail, while shooting him her _I mean business, don't mess with me_ scowl.

"Well Officer Friendly, for the record, I aint never called you Cucaracha," he said cooly while reaching for his jeans. "I wouldn't call you a cockroach. That wouldn't be gentlemanly. Now would it? . . . Yea didn't think I knew Espanol did ya?"

She glowered at him in all his grand lameness. Nothing about him was gentlemanly and she wanted to dig her nail right into one of those dimples and twist till he bled.

"Spanish? You barely know English. Or at least you seem not to understand simple words like shut up. Shall I say it in Espanol so you can comprende?"

Sawyer lowered his brows to a sinister frown. "How about this. How about I don't call you anything from now on, except the broom stick dispatch to fly your tight ass away, Glenda."

"Fine with me," she said, while fighting back a smile. Getting the best of him,getting him hot and angry gave her odd pleasure, which would be great if he didn't typically make her just as angry. Guerilla tactics aside, this was all worth it she reassured herself as another disturbing thought entered her mind. Was he the kind to kiss and tell? Probably so since he never knew when to shut his trap as it was. Man, if he had video taped this, the little opportunist would be selling it out of his tent in exchange for coconuts before she could blink an eye.

_Naked Ana Lucia sex tapes. Come get em while they're hot. She's a wild one._ Yup, this little tryst needed to remain between him, her and the palm trees.

"If you tell anyone about this, I'll kill you," she said firmly with all sincerity.

"If you tell anyone about this I'll kill you," he repeated, mocking her in falsetto. "Idle threats, Morticia, idle threats. You'll be back and it won't be to kill me, guarantee that," he promised in his low Southern drawl. "But we're finished here... for now ... Now Git." He barked then grinned. "Cupcake."

She huffed, tightening her jaw. He didn't get to dismiss her. But better she get while the getting was good. She would leave him there and maybe the infamous island monster would snatch him away while he was completely defenseless. Naw even the poor monster would spit his crazy ass back.

As she left the scene of her crime, she heard him mumble something like tight little ass or nice fck in the grass. She looked back to sneer at him while covertly swiping the gun from behind a rock. She had won this round.

**Part II**

She was never so happy to see a shower in her life. The hatch water, tepid and rusty-tasting, assaulted and relaxed her senses at the same time. Propping her her hand against the wall, she let the stream cascade over her and lull her into a trance.

Her thoughts were consumed with his hands – large, rough and calloused, fully engulfing the cheeks of her ass, and how his thighs had felt against her hips, as thick as tree trunks. How their moisten skin had stuck together under the burning sun. The crazy things he whispered in her ear through shallow breath --all of it invaded her thoughts.

The steam of the shower had her dizzy. She couldn't remember if her throat was raw from strangulation or from the deep shrills as Sawyer drove deep inside her. She dug her nails into the hardened bar of Dharma regulation soap. There was sand and island soil and Sawyer's flesh under there. His muscles had been solid and thick against her palms, yet she managed to burrow her fingers deep into his shoulder blades. Almost cutting flesh. She needed to do that to hold on tight, to not slip away into oblivion. He had cursed loudly at her aggression, laughing and cursing and breathing hard, and begging for mercy.

Curling her toes against the wet concrete, she ran the soap up her thigh with thoughts of how rough his stubble felt against her tender flesh, how she melted against his tongue, and yielded to him despite her resistance.

Each day had melded into the next, all thoughts blended into one. There was no use trying to separate anything anymore. She couldn't remember how long she had been on this island. She no longer knew if she were even really alive. Nothing seemed real. She was running on fumes and moving on primal extinct, fighting against time. Rubbing her neck again and again, tilting and letting the tepid stream pulse on her sore jugular, she focused on Sawyer instead of Henry. If she focused on Sawyer her blood didn't grow cold. If she pretended that he had his arms wrapped around her tight, she could feel safe if only for a fleeting second.

Boom!

Ana scuttled her feet and hit the back of the shower wall. Putting her hand to her forehead to stop her brain from spinning, she realized that she wasn't under siege. She had merely startled herself as the bar of soap slipped from her hands and hit the shower floor like a heavy brick. The echo of the impact sounded eerily like gunfire, and that left her heart thumping wildly out of her chest. She examined her hands closely. They were trembling. She barely had full control of any limbs or muscles these days. Her body was

racked with the anxiety and fatigue of hunted prey. Henry smelled fear and he was out for blood.

Lack of food and sleep for weeks had nearly drained her of all strength, which was the only rationale for her waning skills and lack of alertness. Not only did Henry catch her off guard and nearly choke her to death, she had been like a shadow boxer not even managing to cold sock Sawyer. She had to sex him up instead. She was no stranger to extreme measures though. She learned long ago that the simple life wasn't for her.

Her mother told her to slow down a million times. Her mother warned her not to borrow trouble, not to look for solace in revenge.

She shut her eyes and willed the water to relax her nerves, letting a wicked smile form on her face. She did manage to put one over on Sawyer. If nothing else, she had that. She could die happy knowing that she had gotten the best of him, and surprisingly she kind of enjoyed herself while doing it. Bizarre. Only on this island.

Ana sat on the edge of the couch starring at the barrel of the gun, feeling the weight of it in her palm, cradling it like a baby. Her hands shook as if she had really pulled the trigger, and blown Henry's brains all over his prison cell. The reality was that he was still in there, breathing, mocking her cowardice.

She remembered the first time she killed a man in the line of duty – she felt vibrations of a discharged gun in her hand for days. After she killed Jason the shakes lasted weeks. The nightmares never really went away. Her career as a law enforcement officer had died a quick death like her unborn child. Her life had never been the same, and nothing ever really eased her pain.

There was a big price to pay for vengeance. And this time maybe it would have meant never ridding herself of the feeling of Henry's clammy paws around her neck or his sinister voice calling her a killer. And that's what she was, a killer. If there was a heaven, she doubted she would ever be invited. She would never be able to wash the blood off her hands. She had put so much faith in a hunk of metal to solve all of her problems. Funny how it was never quite that simple.

"You don't want to do this, man. Trust me." Ana cursed the tears burning at the back of her eyes, while looking away from Michael who was hovering above her, nervously pacing.

"Just give me the gun Ana Lucia. He deserves to die. For what he, for what he did to you."

Ana shook her head wearily. "It aint worth it."

"But they took my son."

"You think killing Henry is going to bring him back?" She stood defiantly as Michael approached her a bit too quickly, giving him a threatening look. Her heart went out to him though. He was a desperate man willing to do anything and everything to save his son. But there were better ways and creating more hysteria wasn't one of them. She knew.

_There is always a way out mi hija. Let me help you_

"Michael, a wise person once told me that revenge is a lazy way of mourning. Trust me. It only causes more problems. Just hold on man, things will turn around. We're behind you." Shoving the gun in the back of her pants, she left the hatch, throwing any ideas of revenge aside.

**Part III**

Ana made her way quickly through the jungle, hoping to make it to the beach before sunset and definitely avoid Sawyer and his inevitable whining and girly threats about his damn gun. She didn't need it anymore, but she certainly wasn't giving it back to him. She wouldn't give him the pleasure. In fact, as she left the hatch she had run into Libby, who warned her that Sawyer had been combing the beach hunting for her and he didn't seem happy. Ha. The thought of him ransacking every tent in search of his beloved gun brought a greedy smile to her face. Didn't he have a dozen more of them hidden away somewhere anyway? He was such a me/me, mine/mine type of person it drove her insane.

"No I don't have the hots for him," she had insisted to Libby. "The island is smaller than you think and he is always in my face wherever I turn." Libby wasn't buying it, and she took the liberty to add that Sawyer was way too eager to i justi be looking for a stupid ole gun.

Case in point about how small the island was. She couldn't even get back to the beach without running into him. Now she spied him a few feet away cursing under his breath like a raving lunatic. She could have hid behind some bushes and let him pass, but she couldn't let this opportunity go.

"You always talk to yourself."

He glowered at her with such fury that it made her stiffen like a cat ready to attack.

After spouting some crap about getting his gun back or else, he caught her and pulled her back before she could escape. She let him hold her tight, and fought just a little to make him hold her tighter. She didn't want to rationalize with real resistance. She was tired of the fight.

She buried her head in his chest and drunk in his scent as he growled in her ear about how they would stand there all night until he got his gun. She didn't care, his words faded into a dull roar and the gun was right within his grasp anyway. If he wanted to stand there intertwined so be it.

She sighed and reached behind her back to present the gun. Before she could finish her move he had thrown her to the ground.

"Ow you asshat." She changed her mind in a flash. She needed to get away from him, from everything. She felt like telling him that he had caused the gash on her forehead. That was until he threatened to kill Henry if he ever laid a hand on her again. That bit of chivalry caught her off guard. Big bad Sawyer had her back.

"Now don't go getting tingly. I aint the chivalrous type."

He continued rambling to the point of irritation, but she was beyond hearing his actual words. She resolved to pay attention to the subtext, and after awhile only heard her own heartbeat.

After she reminded him that she could fight her own battles, he leaned back and pulled her ontop of him. Cradleling her body, he wrapped his arms around her, completely shrouding her like a cocoon. She nestled her head between his pecs, yielding and melting into him. She had never felt so safe on this island. It was strange irony. It felt right.

"Were in this together Rambina whether you like it or not."

She released a series of deep sighs before burying her head under his shirt and tenderly kissing his taut stomach.

Before she could fully unbuckle his belt, he lifted her again, holding her face in the palm of his hands, gazing at her and finally not uttering a word. He caught a tear in his thumb and wiped it away. Smiling feebly, she suddenly wanted to press her lips into both of those lake-deep dimples. Everything about him overwhelmed her senses. The way he infuriated her and intrigued her, kept her always guessing. She had been here with him just like this mere hours before, which made him familiar, the most familiar thing in a strange world.

All her resistance vanished and she marveled at the tenderness of his kisses and how easily he slipped inside her. She raked her hands along his back which felt as slick and hard as polished stone. He warmed, filled her and sent her senses soaring. She bit her fist hard to keep from screaming, then allowed herself to release and float away

They were in this together whether she liked it or not. And that was just fine with her.

--end--


End file.
